


Fantasy

by lilsmartass



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Five And One, Humour, Lemon, M/M, Non Graphic, rape role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsmartass/pseuds/lilsmartass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Written for the Clint Barton Christmas Exchange as a fic for saone77. Clint has a fantasy, Phil does his best to oblige. Five times it went wrong and one time it was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: rape role play, but consent is explicit and discussed first  
> Genre: humour, lemon, slash

_“You ever think of doing something new Phil?”_

_“New?”_

_“You know...in bed.”_

_There was a long silence. “You don’t like what we do?”_

_“No! No, I love what we do. Jesus Phil, I thought I was the insecure one. I just...I have this fantasy...”_

_“Alright...”_

_“It would be fun to pretend to be a superhero and supervillain right?”_

_“You’re already a superhero. You’re an Avenger.”_

_“I’m the world’s greatest marksman. I’m talking proper super powers so you’d have to render me completely helpless to have your way with me.”_

_“How come you get to be the superhero?”_

_“...Because it’s my fantasy. If you like it I’ll switch with you next time. You’re not allowed to call yourself Captain America though. Steve lives downstairs and it’s just weird.”_

_“I have no intention of calling myself Captain America whilst having sex with you.”_

_Clint leaned in and kissed him gently on the uncertain furrow marring his brow. “Look Phil. I love you. I love our sex life. This is just a...a...fantasy. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine, no pressure. If you do...well...look, just think about it and get back to me. Or don’t, you can surprise me with it. You know what I like. I trust you not to hurt me.”_

“Aha! Hawkman, I have finally ensnared you in my trap!”

“OK, Phil? It’s sweet that you took my suggestion that you be spontaneous with this on board, but one, my superhero name would be way cooler than _Hawkman,_ and two, you’re a spy. Your whole job is making people believe what you tell them. I refuse to believe you are so bad an actor that you need to do that ridiculous accent.”

 

 _Clint spends the next few weeks making every possible excuse to be in places where Phil can easily_ ambush _him. He’s pretty sure Tony has started a tower wide bet on why he keeps sneaking off because he heard Natasha adamantly refuting that he is either seeking secret treatment for an STD or that he has a secret love child that he’s been creeping off to see. He all but gives up on wearing boxers, easy access and all that._

 _Virtually every time Phil glares at him his heart leaps, sure that today is going to be_ the day _. He’s pretty sure that the instant semis he develops every time Phil scowls are giving him a kink for angry Phil. Phil doesn’t seem to get it though. Never indicating by word or deed that he knows what Clint is waiting for._

_It occurs to Clint that he was quite harsh in his put down; maybe Phil thinks he’s not any good at it? Maybe he put Phil off trying again? The idea is horrifying. He knows it will be hot, he knows that once he relaxes and isn’t over compensating with a ludicrous accent, Phil will be incredible at playing a supervillain. He loves dominating Clint when Clint wants to let him, and half the junior agents are sure he’s evil anyway._

_He promised not to push, but Phil started it last time, so he knows he isn’t completely repulsed by the idea. Maybe he should take the initiative, he just needs a couple of props..._

“This time Semtex, I will certainly defeat you!”

“I thought you put a ban on ridiculous voices?”

“Well...I figured I’d been overly harsh in my rejection because you never tried again.”

“I’m choosing my moment Barton, just after you’ve shot me with a water pistol is not, nor is it ever going to be, such a moment.”

“Come on. You can punish me.”

“No.”

“I said _punish_.”

“I heard you.”

“I meant-“

“I am aware of what you meant Barton. I assure you, I don’t need your permission for such an action.”

“That’s...strangely hot.”

“Clint I really am busy. Later.”

“But-”

“Unless you want Natasha to go out on tomorrow’s mission with less than perfect intel you will take my word for it that now is not a good time.”

 

 _It’s really not Clint’s fault anyway. Phil’s making him wait, making him think those sexy scowls were going to the prelude to more pleasurable activities, mean that he has, somewhat unintentionally turned his mind away from the (really,_ really _boring) briefing and is focussing on the steely glint in Phil’s eyes and the hard edge to his tone and imagining what that voice could be ordering him to do._

-          Put those cock sucking lips to good use

_He’s drifted off into a distant, lust fuelled haze, his higher brain functions extending only enough to give him the presence of mind to push in against the desk to hide the erection roaring in his pants. Natasha kicks him lightly in the ankle as Phil starts passing round mission debriefing forms, so he is able to take his without drawing attention to the fact that his attention has been on Phil’s slender shoulders and defined pecs and not his instructions for the last half hour._

_He’s still mostly in fantasy-land though, and so completely not responsible for what comes out of his mouth when Phil firmly instructs:_

“And those who do not wish to have body parts removed will ensure that I have their reports before noon tomorrow so that I have time to go through them and get them filed and not be late to my sister’s wedding.”

“You’ll never take me alive!”

“We’re already doing your kinky role playing fantasy Barton. We are certainly not going to do it in my office.”

“...Well, that was far more information than the rest of us actually needed Coulson.”

 

_He’s curled up in bed, teeth gritted against the whimpers he has no intention of allowing to escape when Phil gets back. He’s been away on a mission for Fury in Arizona for the last three days. Clint is more than a little happy to see him, even if he can’t lever himself off the bed to make Phil aware of that fact. Partly is his pathetic need to be stroked and petted and told he’s OK and pampered by the one person who is able to do so without making him feel completely helpless, partly it is just that everything, excruciating stomach cramps included, are just better when Phil is around._

_For Phil’s part, he’s been on a mission for the past few days (intelligence gathering, abandoned HYDRA complex) and he’s still running primarily on adrenaline and caffeine. When he enters their room and takes stock of Clint’s body, tense and curled, he smiles a shark smile that he likes to use when it is his turn to be bad cop during interrogations. He has some pent up testosterone to work through, and Clint has never slept through him entering a room (has never, as far as Phil knows, slept through anyone entering the room he’s in), though sometimes he lies still and feigns it so that Phil will soothe him back to sleep with kisses and languid hand jobs. The tense back, shaking with some suppressed emotion, suggests Clint wants something more tonight though, something rougher which will take him out of himself and leave him sleepy and sated. He knows what Clint is after, and he’s in just the mood to oblige._

“So Little Hero, I have you in my grasp at last.”

“I...Wha-?”

“Not so easy to escape me now is it?”

“No, no, get off, seriously!”

“I’m going to use you Little Hero, you can’t stop me.”

“Stop! Stop! God, no, I can’t...can’t-BLEURG.”

“...Shit Clint, you should have said you were really sick.”

“’M sorry. God this is disgusting.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s my fault. Come on. Let’s get you in the shower. I’ll change the sheets.”

 

 _He really wants this to be good for Clint. They’ve been together for almost five years, and Phil can count on one hand the number of things Clint had genuinely asked for. That he wanted this enough to request it...to_ risk _requesting it...Even if some thought hadn’t convinced Phil that the idea was hot, he would have done his best to oblige. And OK, he knows Clint himself has made some mistakes over this. Anyone will tell you that clear communication is the key to a good relationship, and over this, they have failed completely to communicate at all._

_This time though, this time will be perfect._

_That thought does not prevent him from checking that Clint is on the same page._

“Please don’t!”

“Really?”

“No Phil. I’m fine. I’m not suffering from food poisoning, I’m fine. I’m just resisting because it’s part of the game.”

“OK, OK. I’ll stop asking. Where was I?”

“ _I’m going to use you_.”

“I’m going to use you Little Hero, I’m going to defile you right here, in front of your adoring crowd.”

“Exhibitionism Phil?”

“I thought we were meant to stay in character?”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I just...we never discussed crowds.”

“Is it OK?”

“Yeah fine, just...surprising. You’ll never take me alive.”

“Oh, I shall take you any way I want. You can’t stand, and you’ll beg for me to fuck you before the end.”

“No! No! Get off me you bastard! Get off!”

“Are you alright?”

“Jesus Phil...Stop asking.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just...last time...you were...”

“You don’t have to be delicate. I puked on you.”

“...Exactly.”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

“And you’re still..?”

“What?”

“You still want this?”

“In general? Yes.”

“In general?”

“I’m sort of...not in the mood now.”

“Oh thank God, neither am I.”

“You want to order pizza and make fun of the so called clandestine missions in James Bond? There’s a marathon on.”

“That sounds perfect.”

 

_“Let’s try spontaneity another time.”_

_“What do you have in mind?”_

_“First off, if I really, truly want you stop, I’ll say...Captain America ok? No need to ask me every few minutes.”_

_“Now?”_

_“I...really?”_

_Phil leaned him and kissed him slow and deep. “I want you, and I want to do this for you.”_

_Clint’s face shifts into a delighted smile. “Let me just go and clean up. By the way, my superhero name is going to be The Masked Eagle.”_

_“Sounds like a children’s cartoon character.”_

_“Don’t you like it?”_

_“I love it. I picked us up a prop by the way.”_

_“Oh yeah?”_

_Phil dug under the sofa and picked up the restraints. “They’re soft, you should easily be able to get out of them if there is a problem and we can pretend they’re...whatever.”_

_“Super power inhibiting?”_

_“You did say you wanted me to have to render you helpless.”_

_“I love you. What are you going to call yourself?”_

_“I believe you decided on Semtex.”_

_“I’ll be five minutes. JARVIS?”_

_“Yes Agent Barton?”_

_“Stop recording.”_

The Masked Eagle is pinned down. Semtex hasn’t started firing yet, but he’s totally out of ammunition and too far away from Semtex to try and take him off balance with hand to hand or the exit to attempt escape. And the gun is held unwaveringly on his chest; not even his super healing will be enough to heal him from a bullet straight to the heart. He sucks in a breath, the satin mask sticking damply to his lips. He always knew this was how it would end. He wishes he could have taken out Semtex, could have saved the world from him at least, but there are others, and they will have to be enough. He is at peace with his fate.

The Masked Eagle straightens his shoulders and smirks. The expression won’t be visible through his mask, but he knows it is audible in his voice when he says, “Well? Because if you’re not going to shoot, I have a date to get ready for.”

Semtex pulls his lips back in a sneer. “I have you completely at my mercy Eagle. Why deny myself what I have wanted for so long?”

Just like that, he is back in the game, if Semtex is going to go down the monologue and torture route, there is every chance he will make a mistake eventually and he can fight his way free. All he needs is a single second. “Really?” he rolls his eyes. “You’re going to _teach me a lesson_? You do know that never actually works?”

“For me it will. I have been planning this since I first laid eyes on you.” He tosses a set of simple black restraints to the Masked Eagle, who catches them unthinkingly. “Cuff yourself. Behind your back.”

“Ummm...no.”

Semtex heaves a put upon sigh. It’s the bland boredom and calm on his face which makes him so creepy. He should be gesticulating wildly by now, taking his eyes from The Masked Eagle to illustrate his point and giving him a chance to attack or escape. “I have a number of bombs planted around the city, set to go off in less than an hour. When I have had my fun I will let you go, give you your chance to save your precious innocents, but not before.”

The threat stutters the breath in his chest, the first icy tendrils of fear coiling around his heart. “You’re bluffing.” His voice is dry and tight.

“Can you take that chance?”

“...You won’t release me afterwards.”

“Do you believe that? You know I care nothing for power or destruction, I care about beating you, and tonight I will. You are welcome to disarm any bombs you like after that point. It will never erase what is about to happen in this room.”

“I-”

“Put them on or I’ll shoot. I too have other things to do tonight.”

The Masked Eagle weighs the restraints in his hands. If needed he should be able to snap them with minimal difficulty. He puts them around his wrists, hearing the click of the mechanism as they snap shut. He knows instantly he has made a mistake. He feels a wave of dizziness wash over him. His arms feel like limp noodles and he stumbles to his knees, head and shoulders sagging. “What-?” he mumbles through suddenly numb lips, tongue unco-operative and too big for his mouth.

Semtex does not cackle. He does however allow his lips to twitch upward slightly in a very slight smile and he places the gun carefully to the side. It is evident he will not need it now. “Just a little something I whipped up for you. What you are feeling now is what it is to be human normal; you are stripped of your unfair advantages.” He steps up close and kneels down beside the Eagle. He pets his head lightly, fingers caressing the smooth mask. “I imagine your face is thing of beauty.”

With obvious difficulty, The Masked Eagle wrenches his head away, “No,” he bites out.

This time Semtex does laugh aloud, a soft, patronising sound. “What part of this makes you believe you are in control so much as to give me orders? I can do as I like to you like this.”

Under his mask, The Eagle bites his lip and looks down. Semtex is right. “You...you say don’t care about doing anything but beating me. I’ll do whatever you want but don’t...I have family. They’d be in danger if you knew who I was.”

“You will do as I say?”

“Yes,” Semtex still hesitated and, neck still turned away uncomfortably to get his mask as far as possible from his long white fingers, The Eagle added softly, “Please.”

“I like you best like this Eagle. On your knees, bound and pleading.” He ran his hand down his side, palming his ass firmly.

The Eagle shuddered and drew in a whimpering breath. He was already growing hard. He might hate himself for it, but at least to himself he could admit that he’d always found Semtex slightly...hypnotic. All muscle and lean powerful grace, offset by a razor sharp mind. It was just unfortunate that they weren’t on the same team.

“You like that.” There is a faint note of wonder to the voice, not quite obscured by the deliberate mocking, and, beneath his mask, the Eagle’s cheeks heat.

“I-No!” he denies.

A sharp slap to the ass is his only response, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want you.” He repeats defiantly.

“Hmmm,” a soft hum of consideration breezes over his skin. The hand slips between his legs, and traces the outline of his dick through his suit pants. “This would seem to disagree.”

His blush heats further. “I- I don’t. Physical stimulus.”

“I have all night to make you tell me the truth. You have less than an hour before my bombs explode.”

Just like that, the fight goes out of him, and with a tiny fission of desire and guilt and lust, it occurs to him he can finally have what he wants. He could never willingly give himself over to a supervillain, but like this? He’s hardly willing is he? Bound and helpless and hundreds of lives at stake? Like this, and only like this, he can give himself over to the moment and not feel guilty later. The realisation is like a weight being lifted for him. He grunts and thrusts down against the hand still between his legs, seeking friction, “Alright, yes. I like it. Want it.”

“Oh Little Bird. The things I am going to do to you.”

Semtex pulls his leg at the knee and uses the lack of balance to flip The Eagle onto his back. He grunts again as he lands on his tied hands, crushing them, but his legs spread involuntarily, allowing Semtex to crawl in between them. He kisses him hungrily, and The Eagle whines through the satin, a barrier to the skin he needs to feel against his. “If I want it,” he grinds out, shifting his hips up shamelessly, seeking friction against the other’s body, “you don’t win.”

The smile is cold and yet somehow manages to smoulder like the embers of a furnace. The knife appears from nowhere, cutting up the seams of his jeans with expert movements and leaving him exposed. His cock is already hard, leaking against his stomach. “I suppose that depends on what I make you do.” He drops his head and takes The Eagle’s cock deep into his mouth.

The Eagle’s eyes flutter he shut. He has lost and he knows it, but this version of losing promises to be such fun that he cannot really bring himself to regret it.  


End file.
